


Martröðum

by Katsuko



Series: Hurt/Comfort Bingo 2011 [8]
Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, Community: hc_bingo, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, NaNoWriMo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsuko/pseuds/Katsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stilled her tongue when Loki began to haunt her dreams. Written for both <span></span><a href="http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/"><b>hc_bingo</b></a> and NaNoWriMo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martröðum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 2, the prompt being "nightmares"... which is also the title in Icelandic, because I'm as creative as a wet paper bag sometimes. Also, this was part of my personal finish-the-card-NaNo challenge, which fell through for a variety of circumstances.
> 
> Also, this story falls into the same universe as [Epithet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/211757)... and has since decided on its own to dovetail into the same universe in which [4 People Who Thought This Shape-shifting Stuff was Weird and the 1 Person Who Wasn't Even Fazed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/210163/chapters/314500), [Resurrection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/214345), [Famine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/227454), and [Wolf](http://archiveofourown.org/works/292509) take place. Which means my world building has finally gotten out of control.

Sif wondered if she was one of the few who could see the pain of the royal family, silently mourning the loss of son and brother. She felt a growing hatred for those men and women of Asgard who felt that Loki's demise was a cause for joyous celebration. She stilled her tongue, however, and spoke honesty when she told Frigga, "I'm sorry for your loss."

She stilled her tongue, also, when the second prince, he who had briefly been king, began to haunt her dreams.

The first night, she dreamed herself present during the final confrontation between Loki and Thor on the Bifrost. She had not been there, of course, having taken Heimdall to the healing chambers and remaining there with her half-brother, but Thor had quietly told herself and the Warriors Three of what had occurred. It was testament to her friend's skill as a storyteller that she could so vividly imagine the fight, that she could hear the Bifrost shatter beneath Mjolnir's blows, that she could see the desperate hope on Loki's face that fell with Odin's words.

She woke herself with a sharp cry of denial as the darker prince let go of the spear and fall off the edge of the world.

The dream repeated a second night, then a third with no change. Each time, Sif awoke either biting back her desperate screams or choking on her own tears.

The fourth night, her dream began with the Bifrost already shattered. However, this time there was no Thor in sight, nor Odin; it was just Sif herself on running to the edge of the bridge. Her logical mind knew that this was not real, but her dream-self still threw herself down at the edge, hands reaching out to catch Loki's as he fell past. She could feel the leather of his gauntlets on her fingertips, could practically smell the faint hint of rain she'd long come to associate with the younger prince.

Loki peered up at her, eyes that familiar green that she had known practically her whole life but oddly _empty_ when they met her own brown orbs. As Sif struggled to pull him back up onto the bridge, to pull him to safety, his skin slowly changed from pale pink to frosty blue, his eyes to the color of fresh blood. She found herself frozen in shock as his mouth twisted into an ugly smile, full of sharp teeth and no mirth.

"I am the monster they warn children about," he hissed in a dark, mocking whisper, and the gauntlets shattered beneath Sif's hands.

She awoke screaming as the creature that had been Loki fell into nothingness.

After that particular night terror, she threw herself into an even heavier training regime than before. She pushed herself to her limits, and then pushed herself beyond them. By the end of the day she was too exhausted to do much more than show up at the evening meal and collapse into a dreamless slumber, only to repeat the entire process the next day.

She managed to follow this pattern for a fortnight before a new dream took hold in her mind.

This time, there was no Bifrost, for she wasn't in Asgard. She didn't recognize exactly _where_ she was, but felt that it must be somewhere on Midgard given the people present... although they were quite an unusual group. She did not know the significance of the human-sized Destroyer or of the star-spangled man or of the two humans who reminded her vaguely of Fandral and herself. She did grasp that the metal man in green was an enemy, and that Loki, who appeared even more pale and gaunt that when she'd seen him last, was fighting against those allied with Thor.

She only blinked for a second, but that was just long enough to miss something important. One moment Loki had been fighting the man in red and blue, and barely holding his own, and the next he'd been crumpled to the ground at Thor's feet with no indication of how he'd gotten there so fast or of _why_ he had fallen.

She awoke that morning with tears streaming down her face, and she didn't quite understand why.

When word came later that day from Thor, stating that his brother had taken a shot meant to harm him during battle, Sif excused herself from the grand hall and locked herself away in her rooms.

For the next week, her nights were filled with visions of the younger prince of Asgard falling in battle and perishing in a variety of horrific ways. First it was poison, coated on the tip of an arrow and pricking the trickster's skin just enough for the foul potion to do its work; then it was a normal arrow, shot unfailingly into Loki's heart. She dreamed of weapons that she'd only barely heard of, something Thor had called guns, dreamed of the projectiles such weapons fired shattering the too-thin prince's body and leaving him a bloodied, barely recognizable mess.

Finally, desperate to put her mind at ease, Sif went to Frigga and asked if there was any word on the younger prince's health. When the queen smiled softly and said that Loki was awake, recuperating, and in Thor's care, Sif thanked her briefly and returned to the training field.

That night as she slept, Sif found herself sitting in a small yet comfortable room containing a bed and the chair in which she sat. Loki lay in the bed, still far too thin and far too pale, but alive. She reached out to verify this truth for herself, a sigh escaping her as she felt his chest rise and fall with every breath he took.

Abruptly, green eyes opened and locked with her brown. Unlike the nightmare where those eyes held despair and loathing, this time there was calm acceptance and peace in Loki's gaze.

"Your thoughts are loud," he said softly, "and they roam far. Do not worry over me any longer, dear Sif. All is well."

She awoke once again with tears in her eyes, but this time there was also a smile on her face. Loki was safe, he was alive and well, and all that was left for Sif to worry over was wondering just how she had somehow _not realized_ when she'd fallen in love with the god of mischief.


End file.
